For You I Will
by InTheShadowOfSignificance
Summary: Feeling desperately alone, even years after the loss of his wife, Pegasus searches for love and companionship in the being that needs it most: a child. Adoption fic
1. Dream A Little Dream

**Perseverance:** **For You I Will**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: This plot is a bit crazy, but I plan to develop it fully, no worries there. I don't know how often I'll update, it will depend on my school workload and how much time I end up devoting to stories in progress before this one. NOTES: Italics are flashbacks, or otherwised used for emphasis. This story takes place three years after the end of the TV series, at which point in time I plan to have Pegasus (around) 31 years old. (Going off a few sources he was 24 at the time of Duelist Kingdom, I give the series about four years from start to finish, and then three years in advance from that.

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Shades of gold and maroon painted the sky as the sun sank lower on the horizon. Quiet musings scribbled themselves across his face as he settled himself further into a lawn chair on the balcony. Subtle hints of tangerine worked their way through vapor trails and cascading colors to catch his attention. He was far too distracted this evening.

He closed his redwood eye and laid his back more comfortably against the cushion of the seat he'd taken, letting his arms, once crossed over his chest, fall limply to his lap. His mind wandered back to blonde curls and pale blue dresses, things he longed to see again. He felt bile creep into his throat at the thought of his recurring dream. The corners of his world melted into a warm, spring green, and in an instant, he was lost in an all too distant memory.

_Tears stained her pale face as she embraced him, "Pegasus…" She whispered, breaking into a soft, elegant laugh, "I'm so happy!" She gushed._

_He smiled, and took both of her hands in one of his own, still embracing her with the other; "I love you." He said, and kissed her lips tinged with pink. _

_She returned his sentiment as she always had, kissing him back once, and then again, many times. "Wouldn't it be lovely to have a church wedding?" _

_He smiled, "Absolutely, my darling." He replied, and moved away from her, his hand roaming and caressing her narrow jaw line._

"_Pegasus…" She paused for a long moment, as if her unbridled excitement was too much for her to handle, "Let's have children…" She whispered dreamily, and he embraced her again, with a laugh._

"_So soon?" He inquired, feeling her nod into the fabric of his pale yellow shirt. _

"_Don't you want to have a family together?" She inquired, "Can't you imagine it, you painting with the oldest boy, and the two younger children sleeping through Sunday afternoons? I'd have a daughter and teach her to play the piano, I'd play her Beethoven every night to go to sleep to."_

_He smiled, almost worriedly, over her shoulder. He held her tighter and mulled over the thought of children. He had never imagined their "family" as anything more or less that the two of them. Anything else seemed wrong, out of place, even one child was out of the question…but three. _

"_Won't it be grand?" She'd asked, and he felt his throat grow painfully dry._

"_I love you." He whispered, and felt her wilt in his arms…._

His eye opened to a blank night, one without stars or a moon. Silently he rose to his feet and made his way to the sliding glass door, which allowed him entrance into his room. He collapsed onto his bed and grasped the soft cotton comforter in both hands, kneading the fabric in his fists.

He wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning to the sound of tiny feet on polished floorboards, how odd, or adorable, it would be to compare the size of his hand to that of a child. He breathed into his pillow, taking in its delicate scent. Often times he thought of adoption, just showing up somewhere and handing over what ever amount of money they wanted so that he could have his little one and raise a family in peace.

Other times he thought against it. This was a child. A huge responsibility that he refused to take lightly like his father before him. If he adopted a child, he would have to be there for it emotionally every day, explain that it was alright to be different, to live in a home where he or she only had a father. He would eventually have to explain to this child that he or she was adopted, and that their adoptive mother would have loved them very much, but could not be there to tell them so. It was those times that brought tears to his eyes, but he had not cried since the night of her death-and would not cry again until re-united with her.

He wrapped his arms around the pillow, trying to envision what it would be like to hug a child as such, or to hold a baby and rock it to sleep at night. He'd learn Beethoven just to play it a lullaby. He smiled, but it faltered quickly. A child was not a pillow, it was a living, breathing human being, not like the ones he passed on the streets in strollers, one that would have a name, a face, and a laugh. He wondered what a baby's laugh would sound like. Holding his breath for a moment he began to wonder if it would be soft and warm, like _hers._

His focus drifted to her for a few long moments before wandering back to that of a family. Part of him had to question whether or not he was mentally ready to take care of children. Surely it would upset them to see him dwelling on their deceased mother on holidays, or around the time of her passing. A strange nausea settled in his stomach, and he contemplated banishing any serious thoughts of adoption from his mind. His hands trembled violently when he realized he could not. He hadn't felt this strongly about something, it seemed, since the time of the Pharaoh and his departure to the afterlife three years previous.

He swallowed hard. He deserved to be happy, perhaps more than most people he knew, but he didn't want anyone else to sacrifice their own happiness for him to achieve it. Bitter memories resurfaced, times of loss and humility that he needed to face to remind him of his place in this life. He longed to end the loneliness that seemed to haunt him even today, but he wasn't all that sure he had the right to do so before he knew the responsibilities of taking care of a child.

He abandoned the pillow he'd been clasping, and sat up in bed. He wanted to be reasonable about this, and the way he saw it, even if the life they had with him wasn't the greatest, it'd prove to be so much better than one of being shuffled from foster home to foster home until coming of age. His nerves threatened to overwhelm him, and all at once he felt both terrified, and serenely calm.

Her voice was soft and sweet in his ear and the weight in his chest seemed to be lifted on it. His lips softened against his teeth and he relaxed into another memory. Her figure descended before him as he closed his eyes, engulfed in a purple light, and he could feel himself smiling to the illusion of her face. She spoke his names several times, although, lovingly, which was new. The frenzy that normally dominated her being wasn't present, he noticed, feeling his hands tingle, as if having touched her skin. "Cynthia." It was a soft whisper to deaf ears.

She called back to him one last time, it seemed, at the sound of her name, and vanished from his mind's view. He rubbed his thumb gently over his fingers, which still burned from the sensation of having held her. Peace overcame him for a fleeting moment as he opened his eyes to darkness. Nothing was ever going to be easy for him, nor straightforward, but he'd always known that.

He blinked hard, tensioning; _he'd always known that._

"...Yes my love." He said, and fell back onto his bed, "Let's have children." The back of his hand glided across the cool surface of his previously abandoned pillow, and he fell into a deep, healing slumber, from which he awoke to arrange a very important flight to Domino Japan.

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AN: Something random I thought I'd elaborate on, will be updated, and possibly re-worked eventually, but it's been gnawing at me since I joined this sight, and I've finally decided to get some feedback on it. That said, please read and review, I feel the ending lacked, especially compared to those of my other works, but I wasn't sure how I really wanted to approach the next chapter, so, as I said, any critique or note is appreciated.

"You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life."  
-Albert Camus


	2. Happiness Is

**Chapter 2: Happiness Is**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: This story takes place three years after the end of the TV series, at which point in time I plan to have Pegasus (around) 31 years old. (Going off a few sources he was 24 at the time of Duelist Kingdom, I give the series about four years from start to finish, and then three years in advance from that.)

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Despite his anticipation he awoke in a fog. Thoughts ran together in choppy masses of improvisation as he boarded his jet, coffee in hand, and took a seat. The bitter liquid, laced subtly with hazelnut sweetener, did little to improve his condition. Behind him a man suited in black was speaking, but Pegasus couldn't force himself to focus on the words that left his mouth. He rested his back against the cushion of the seat he'd taken and stretched his long legs.

"Croquet." His voice was uncharacteristically gruff, the cheery demeanor it had so faithfully depicted all these years since her passing, too, seemed to have vanished. "What's the point of this meeting, exactly?" Annoyance lingered, although, not playfully.

"The woman I spoke to called it a basic evaluation." The chief of security replied with a moment's hesitation. "It was obvious upon hearing who you were that the financial part of the picture was not what needed looking into." He continued, "She said she'd like to meet with you to discuss which child would be best suited for you and your lifestyle."

His employer gave an almost bitter laugh, and sipped at the warm drink in his hand, "Special treatment for a celebrity." The plane took off as Croquet opened his mouth to speak, white noise filling the confines of their subconscious.

It lifted with a majesty Pegasus hadn't felt for a long time, somewhere above him he could still vaguely make out Croquet's voice, and to it, he drifted back to sleep until they reached Domino. It wasn't the landing, but instead the hum of a dying engine that roused him from his slumber. The man fumbled for his brief case, smoothed himself over, and made for the limousine waiting at the airport. There were now exactly 53 miles between him and an arrangement that would change his life forever. He crossed his legs and tried not to tremble.

To pass the time he absently put his hands in his pockets and dug out their contents. When finished he held a few fibers in one hand, and a small butterscotch candy, wrapping untouched, in the other. Smiling slightly he turned it over in his hand. He wondered if all children liked candy: it seemed obvious that they would, but he also supposed that, like adults, not all children necessarily had to like sweet things. He closed his eye for a long moment, and focused once again on the trinket he held. There was no telling how old it was, he noted, until bringing himself back to the last time he'd even bought butterscotch candies. He grimaced at the thought and continued his pondering. Could young children even have candy? Was two or three too young? Certainly not, he remembered having candy at three…or perhaps he was slightly older…his childhood seemed a blur to him now.

He set the parcel of premeditated bribery aside, deciding, rightfully, that it was no good by now anyway. Glancing out the window he felt his heart murmur as he caught sight of the orphanage. How long had he spaced out? He tried not to think about it. The vehicle came to a stop in front of the large, well-kept building, and immediately he swung open his door to approach it.

"Croquet, why are they all coming toward us?" He muttered under his breath. The other man straightened a bit as he walked.

"They're here to greet us sir." He replied, "Its not often people come to an orphanage in person unless its to pick up their child." He continued as the group of four people swarmed them. Pegasus noted three ladies and a man, all fairly young and vibrant looking. He decided the overall appearance of the place worked in its favor, it was well kept from the outside, and the people seemed to have the right mentality for dealing with children.

Japanese greetings attacked him from all sides and he smiled as he tried to keep them straight. "Mr. Crawford I'm so sorry." The man piped up in heavily accented English, "Would you prefer we speak English?" He inquired.

Pegasus nodded, "For the time being, yes." He replied, then, adding a quick word of gratitude, moved toward the building that sat a few feet in front of him.

"Right this way!" The young man exclaimed, sheepishly taking the hint. "One thing you should be aware of is that there are very few children here who speak English." He began to explain as he walked Pegasus down many clean hallways. Hallways too clean to have been open to small children. "I figured we might start with those who do."

Pegasus gave a curt nod as he struggled to match the pace of his guide, "How old are those children, approximately?"

The shorter of the two paused in thought for a moment as he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, searching for and finding the one he needed to unlock the door in front of them. "There are only six children here that are bilingual. Four of them speak English and Japanese, and they range in age from four to ten."

"A bilingual child at four?" Pegasus was astonished, both by the news and by the thought of having locked doors, which led to children.

"She's a very special little girl. Originally she lived in the United Kingdom so English was her first language, but her mother transferred here for a job about six months ago and got into an accident." The door opened and Pegasus followed him down two more halls before he came to a playroom, which held several small children.

"And her father?" He questioned, almost regretfully.

"He left shortly before the child was born. Didn't want the responsibility, I suppose." The answer was brief, apathetic, and objective.

"Does she have a name?" Pegasus inquired, almost irritated by the demeanor of the man in front of him. Not only had he neglected to offer an introduction, but now it seemed he was avoiding any sort of question that made the kids he was taking care of seem human.

"Yes." He was grasping for it as he motioned for a little girl, who came to him immediately. At last, apparently having given up, he merely instructed the child to introduce herself, adding quickly, that she do so in English.

"Hello." Her voice was timid and soft.

"Don't look at your feet while talking to someone." The Japanese native spoke, "It's rude."

"She's fine." Pegasus cut in, keeping his voice tauntingly even, "What's your name kiddo?" He asked, his signature tone of voice returning now.

Slowly blue eyes met his, "Clara."

A smile played on his lips at the sight of her face, innocence radiating from her pale and delicate features. It was like falling in love all over again; all he had to do was look at her to know she was the one.

"What a pretty name!" He gushed, crouching down to her level, so as not to intimidate her. "What sorts of things do you like Clara?" He inquired cheerily, above him Croquet stood, eyes warmly glimmering behind his shades.

"I dunno." She muttered, looking down at her feet once more, as if unsure of what to do next.

"Oh c'mon." He coaxed, "What do you do for fun?" He tried again, watching the corners of her mouth curve upward quickly, forming a smile that seemed to melt the piece of him, which still felt insecure.

"I color." She said, and stopped, as if waiting for some sort of response or approval. Glancing up at him she rocked back and forth where she stood.

"Really?" Pegasus exclaimed, at last catching on, "Do you ever finger paint, I just _love_ painting!" He continued in a fashion all his own.

Eagerly Clara nodded, her soft chestnut hair swaying as she did so. "I's paint good!"

He laughed, _you paint well_, he thought to say, but did not. "How would you like to come paint at my house?" He asked, and at this her demeanor changed considerably.

"Your house?" She repeated, her voice unsteady.

Pegasus nodded, still smiling softly, warmly, at her. Perhaps she understood what he was asking; perhaps it was just too soon for her to want to be anywhere but here by herself. Six months…he tried to wrap his mind around only having six months to grieve, six months to get over Cynthia before finding someone new. His smile faltered and fell.

"I has a red mailbox." She said out of the blue, "a red mail box and a black drive way."

"Stop talking nonsense-"

"Will you let the poor child be!" Pegasus snapped, harshly enough to get his point across to the Japanese man above him without scaring the child mere feet away.

"Where do you have these things?" He questioned.

"Where my mommy lives." She replied.

"You love your mommy very much don't you?"

The child nodded vigorously, lacing her fingers together behind her back. "My mommy go'd away." She continued, a little more solemnly, "Up there." She added, right hand suddenly pointing as far as it could reach, up to the ceiling. The child who stood on tip toes in a little denim jumper, riding up well passed her knees, seemed to articulate a form of hope.

He smiled again, briefly. "Yes." He said, almost sadly, "but you know what I heard from the people up there?" He continued, and at this, her eyes lit up, desperately urging him to continue. "I heard she's very happy, do you know she lives up there with her mommy and daddy now?" The Japanese man above him stared down at the pair; bewildered, even Croquet was beginning to question his employer's tactics.

"She does?" Clara chirped, her voice taking on an airy quality.

"Oh yes!" Pegasus exclaimed, luckily enough, Clara's grandparents on both sides were, as he suspected, deceased. "And when its time, you, and I, and everyone else will go be with their mommies and daddies too." He explained.

The child leapt forward, almost into his unready arms, "But how do we know when to go!" She blurted out.

"Everyone's time is different." Pegasus told her, cautiously raising a hand to stroke her cheek; anguish fluttered somewhere deep within him for a moment, "But one day you'll know." He assured her, and she gazed longingly at him, beaming like he'd just offered her all the candy and treasures the world had to offer. He smiled in the face of her expression, and pulled his hand away.

She seemed fairly satisfied with that answer, and turned her attention back to her previous thoughts. "I like purple." She mused, taking a seat on the floor rather close to Pegasus.

The man above her smiled, his knees strained from crouching so long, "Purple's a _lovely_ color!" He replied, "I like red myself." His breath caught in his throat for a moment, _I has a red mail box. _He wondered if that thought would now occur to him at every mention of red.

Clara seemed unfazed by the comment, "Red's okay." She told him as she twirled a loose thread of her jumper around her index finger.

"Did you know that mixing blue and red together make purple?" Once again the child's head snapped up to beam at him, to her, he was an endless supply of knowledge.

"I wanna see!" She pressed, and laughing, Pegasus stood to full height. His knees could bear the weight no longer.

"I can show you." He said, and upon hearing this, she too rose to her feet.

"Do you have blue and red at your house?" She inquired, "We gots crayons here but Mason eated all the red ones."

"Why of course I do!" Pegasus responded, holding out his hand for her to take. Hesitantly Clara approached him again, and slid her tiny fingers into his own, holding them gently against his palm. "What'd ya say kiddo?" He questioned, looking down at her kindly, "My house?"

She nodded, tiny teeth peeking out from behind coral lips, "Your house!" She agreed, and with that it was settled.

Croquet took Clara out to the limousine to wait for his employer to draw up and fill out paperwork. The orphanage staff had agreed to let him take the child home the same day, no doubt, pulling strings because he was a celebrity. Meanwhile, Pegasus remained in a small room with someone he assumed to be in charge of the place.

"Now, say for instance her biological father wants to be a part of her life." He began as he scanned and initialed the first form: "Can he legally fight for custody?"

"No, her mother had "father withheld" written on the birth certificate, even if he were to request a DNA test, he has no grounds to take legal action." The woman on the other side of the desk replied. "I assure you, you won't go through any trouble from this point on, it'll be like she was always yours." The response, though seemingly sentimental, was void of emotion.

_I know its not exactly what we were expecting, Cyndia. She has a mother she loves very much, and I can't take that away from her, but I'll still tell her about you, every day. She'll come to love you, my darling, just as I did. _He thought to himself as he spent a long while filling out forms. As the day came to an end he re-boarded his jet with a third passenger, and a file of legal documents tucked tightly away in his brief case. Placing Clara securely in the window seat beside him, he began to wonder if it'd all happened too fast. He held her trembling hand as she stuttered out fearful protests; it wasn't that he regretted it… ("But I never go'd on a plane before!") …it was just that the realization had been delayed.

Even as he sat with a child deathly afraid of flying and only one way back home, he felt, for the first time in many long years, content, perhaps even happy. He was finally going home with a person he loved, and many things to look forward to. One of them, he hoped, was a bed, that on some dark, stormy nights, would not hold only himself.

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AN: Okay, so a couple things, sorry for the less than satisfactory conclusion to this chapter, I wrote and re-wrote it but its just not what I wanted it to be. The next chapter will make up for it, I promise. In any case I was supposed to be updating _Those Who Love Gracefully _over the weekend, I got about a paragraph into the fifth chapter in three days and realized it just wasn't in the cards. However; I read one of my favorites for the millionth time this morning (Blood Canvas, an optic shipping fic, and an AMAZING one at that) and had a sudden inspiration to write. How that relates to this story, I have no idea, my brain is quite dysfunctional, you see.

Please review :)


	3. Papa

**Chapter 3: Papa**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: Wow, has it honestly been two *years?* I am appalled at myself you guys, I am so sorry for the wait, a huge thank you to anyone who is still with me. Please note that some elements of this story are progressing quickly, but this is sort of essential to developing key traits of Clara's personality. This will all be "fleshed out," if you will, in later chapters.

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The journey home was a long one. Clara wept as they took off and would not be comforted until the plane touched down on what had been Duelist Kingdom. When the pilot killed the engine, Pegasus unfastened her safety belt and helped her down the narrow aisle of the plane. Her small hands reached up for his when she came to the steps, and from behind her he took them in his own. Lifting gently, he plopped her down on each step with an exaggerated sound effect.

"What shall we do first?" He asked cheerily as the two made their way to his palace, but the young girl could not answer. She merely stared, transfixed by the house in front of her.

"Storybook house!" She exclaimed, pointing dramatically towards home. Pegasus nodded with a smile.

"Your storybook house." He told her cautiously as the two opened the door to enter. The brunette seemed to consider this for a moment before moving on to decidedly more pressing matters.

"I want to make purple." She spoke softly into the vast and bustling house.

"Hmm?" Pegasus replied, cupping his ear and leaning down to hear her better.

"I want to make purple." She repeated with a moment's hesitation.

Pegasus dipped his head back and laughed, through all of his awkward fumbling he was beginning to find his niche. "Come with me." He said, scooping her up and setting her nonchalantly on his shoulders, "We'll set up the paint." He explained as she gasped and giggled at the view.

"I's tall!" She cheered, "I's tall!"

"You _are_ tall." He cooed back to her as they made their way to a sanctuary. Clara kicked her feet against Pegasus's broad shoulders and hummed absently as they walked, the song was unfamiliar to him, but he encouraged her just the same.

"Here we are!" He gushed, swinging open a large door to reveal abandoned easels, and paint pallets stained from years of use. He set Clara on the floor in front of him and looked her up and down for a moment, "You can paint as you are." He decided with a nod of approval, "We'll buy new clothes for you later on today."

With that, he moved to his paints and brushes, assembling a basic color pallet. "This is called a canvas." He explained to the little girl, who watched intently as he set up an easel for her.

"Paper?"

"Well, sort of." Pegasus replied as he bent down to roll up the sleeves of her turtleneck. "A canvas is used for oil paints, like the ones daddy has." Almost as soon as the word had left his lips he felt his stomach knot. It was awkward, almost unreal, to refer to himself as 'daddy'. But he was a father, he was a father, he was a _father_. He looked to Clara for any indication of a response, but she offered none. Silently he hoped he hadn't moved into this too fast. He slid a painting stool to the canvas, and offered his arms to her. Blinking, she obliged him and reached up to be helped onto the wide, wooden seat.

"I can't reach." She mused, pouting slightly with her lower lip. Pegasus realized this too, but didn't have a stool tall enough to accommodate such a young child. "Well..." He thought for a moment and smiled as an idea came into his head, "Let's paint this way." He at last added, lifting Clara up and taking a seat on the stool. As he positioned her on his lap, she squirmed to get comfortable. For a moment he thought she might protest to such closeness, but she instead placed her hands around the one not holding her in place, "Teach me!" She squealed, consumed by the thought of being able to do what she loved so much without being scolded or restricted.

Pegasus smiled, and grasped a paint pallet with his free hand. Balancing Clara on his knee, he moved the arm that once secured her to grab a brush. "Have you ever held a pencil?" He asked her softly. She shook her head no.

"I held crayons." She answered, looking up at him quizzically.

"Perfect!" He replied, "I want you to take this brush like you would a crayon." He instructed, waiting a moment for her to comply. To his dismay, she placed the brush awkwardly inside her hand so that it rested against her pinky finger, confining the other four to an awkward, completely vertical hold around the implement. As he expected, she couldn't maintain a steady grip, and dropped the brush almost immediately.

"I'm sorry." She whimpered.

"That's alright." He assured her happily, giving her a little squeeze of comfort before leaning sideways to pick up the brush. "Watch how I-" He stopped, battling with whether or not to correct himself, deciding ultimately that she must get used to this as soon as possible. (And moreover, that _he _must get used to it as soon as possible.) "Watch how daddy holds it." He advised, showing her how to grip the brush between her index finger and thumb.

Her small hands tried to mimic his when he offered her the brush, but could not. "It's okay." He encouraged, "Keep trying." He placed his hand over hers, positioning her fingers correctly around the brush, "For now, this is the way we'll hold a pencil, or a paintbrush, or anything else we use to draw." He informed her. "Then daddy can show you how to write."

"I can't do it." She fussed, her voice trembling with confusion and frustration. She had never held crayons this way, it felt wrong and she didn't like having to change it all of a sudden.

Pegasus decided to change the subject, hoping that she might adjust better to the grip if she got practice using it. "Let's make purple now." He suggested, hand still over hers as a guide. At the mention of mixing her own colors, Clara brightened and bounced up and down on his leg. "Okay, are you ready?" He asked, and she immediately nodded. "When we mix colors, we always start with the lighter color first." He explained.

"Lighter?" She questioned.

"Yes, what colors do we have on the pallet?" He asked, and pointing to each she replied,

"Red, and blue, and yellow."

"Very good!" He praised, "Now of those colors, yellow is lightest, and blue is darkest." He explained, pointing to each one with the end of the brush. "To make purple we need red and blue. Which color is lighter, red or blue?" He asked her.

Clara looked at him for a moment, then back at the paint, thinking hard, "Red!" She exclaimed, poking at the edge of the red paint.

"Good girl! So we'll take red on our brush first." He replied, guiding her brush into the red paint and dragging it up over the dip into the center of the pallet. "We drag it to the middle so we don't mix any colors we don't want to." He said, before dipping his brush into water to clean it, "Then we clean it off and add the blue." He continued as Clara watched him drag the darker color into the red, swirling until a dark purple hue formed. "If the paint is too dark, we add some white to make it brighter." He continued, grabbing a standby bottle of white paint and squeezing a small amount onto the pallet, before dragging it into the central mixture. "You mix it." He told her.

She twirled the brush in the paint until a clearly violet shade took over what was once a much too dark purple. "Purple!" She chirped excitedly, splashing the brush into the paint.

"Well done." He cooed as he helped her wipe off excess color and move the brush to the canvas, "I'm gonna let go of your hand now." He told her as he released his hold on her wrist, allowing her to move freely with the paint.

For a moment her fingers fumbled against the thin wooden brush, it's presence awkward and restricting. But after a few strokes she relaxed her hand and moved the paint into broad lines, making stick structures of a house, a person, and a sun. Pegasus relaxed, his arms resting loosely around her small form, seeming to suck her closer to him. He couldn't recall a prouder moment in all his life, through all of his accomplishments in business and industry, these few moments with a child seemed to give him the most irreplaceable joy.

"Oh no!" Clara cried, startling him from a tranquil reminiscence.

"What's the matter?" He asked, moving a hand to stroke her hair.

"My sun is purple!" She observed, frowning for a moment and then giggling, "I is purple!" She added.

Pegasus laughed and stroked a thumb over her cheek with his free hand, "That's okay kiddo. I think purple suns are the absolute best!" Clara stared for a moment before her expression became soft and cheerful, Pegasus helped her rinse the purple from her brush and smiled at her eagerness to begin adding a new color.

As Clara waited impatiently, he continued to soak it's coarse bristles until it wiped clean on a paper towel, then placed it into tiny fingers to be used anew. Just as he was repositioning Clara on his other leg, the first growing stiff under her weight, he heard her stomach growl.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, pallet still in hand.

She shrugged and reached for the paintbrush, which he still held firmly as her fingers clasped around it, "Look at me." He told her gently, still smiling down at her. Tentatively she lifted her eyes to his own, and he was briefly overcome by the blue orbs that might have easily belonged to biological children fate had not permitted him. He could feel the illusion of a memory pressing to the front of his mind, taste the lingering peppermint of Cyndia's lipstick smile against his teeth.

"Let's have lunch." He pressed, bringing himself back to reality. Her expression falling slightly, Clara looked down at the ground. Her fingers still held the paintbrush, no longer tugging, but perhaps still pleading to continue.

"More Papa, more." She whined slightly, hauntingly cerulean eyes staring up into his own.

Pegasus felt his reserve crumble. _Papa. _His heart melted at the thought. A large, softened hand moved to stroke her cheek as he set her on her feet again. It felt odd at first, being called Papa. He had grown up calling his French grandfather Papa, and immediately associated the endearment with an older man. But the thought of her referring to him so affectionately - just like that - gave him more hope than he ever thought possible.

"Papa?" She called to him, a slight note of fear in her voice.

"Come on." He urged, getting to his feet and working full range of motion into his legs. Also silently vowing not to go off into anymore memories around her, if he could help it. "We can come back to this room later and paint loads." He continued, but his daughter seemed unconvinced.

"Promise?" She questioned, and Pegasus nodded.

"Cross my heart." He replied with a smile, remembering the phrases of his childhood somewhat fondly. "Let's have lunch now, and then we can go shopping for new clothes." He took a step toward the door and suppressed chuckling when she leapt to where he stood, fearful of being left in such a large, unfamiliar place.

"What would you like for lunch?" He asked, guiding her down one of many corridors to the dining hall. She shrugged her small shoulders, distracted by several paintings of a gorgeous blonde woman strewn about the castle.

"I like waffles, and chicken, and potatoes." She told him as she skipped down the halls, listening to the sound of her shoes on the polished wood floors. "And ice cream." She added, a hopeful look in her eyes.

Pegasus smirked at her cheeky grin, then posed a proposition, "If you're a good girl we'll get an ice cream cone when we're done shopping, okay?" He asked, and Clara nodded excitedly.

At the dining table Pegasus laid a phone book on top of her chair so that she was tall enough to comfortably reach the table. Taking a seat across from her instead of his usual spot at the head of the table, he began mixing a bowl of salad and taking a serving. Croquet ladled Clara a small bowl of chicken soup, and handed her a heel of bread.

"Hot." She mused at the soup, scraping a spoon around the bowl in circles.

"Blow on it." Pegasus instructed before taking a bite of his own food, and slowly Clara leaned over her bowl to blow soft ripples across warm broth. After doing this a few more times she took a bite, struggling with the long, homemade noodles as she chewed.

Much to his surprise, she murmured "Oishii" looking down into the bowl.

"Mm." He affirmed, "Oishii, delicious!"

It had come together all too easily, he thought as he worked on his plate of food. He began to wonder if she understood that she would be living with him permanently. He questioned how many months - years - of being called Papa is would take to actually _be_ Papa. Even without his millenium eye, he felt underlying anxiety in Clara threatening to come forth full force. She was a mess of awkward glances and uncertain requests, restricted by fear of the unknown, and the timidity that is a child in the presence of a stranger. Essentially, he kept reminding himself, that's what the two still were. Strangers. Still, he felt convinced that she could be all he needed to find happiness. In time, he hoped to provide her with the same comfort.

"Careful." He pressed softly as her glass cup slid in her hands.

"It's okay." She said, "I didn't drop it." She smiled as Pegasus smiled.

"Good girl," then, "are you all done?"

She looked down at her half-eaten soup and nodded, hoping she would not be chided for wasting food. "All done." She said softly.

At her word, servants began to clear plates, empty and full, and disappear in routine frenzy to the kitchen.

"Croquet, bring the car around. We've errands to run." He instructed his graying head of security.

"Yes sir." Came the stoic reply as Pegasus rose to his feet, brushing faint wrinkles from his lavish red suit.

He walked with Clara, who stood frozen at the castle doors leading out onto the grounds. "Come on." He called softly back to her upon realizing she wasn't behind him. She stood unmoving, staring at the ground and playing with the same loose string on her jumper.

Puzzled, Pegasus met her at the entry way and crouched down to her level, lifting her to him and wrapping an arm under her. "It's time to go." He sang out as he bounded down the steps, excited for his first family outing. "Let's buy tons of purple!" He urged, trying to coax her into at least looking at him. Sensing she was troubled he paused for a moment, still holding her, "What's the matter?" He asked, "Are you tired?"

"No." She said softly; Pegasus winced at the sadness in her voice. The two of them quickly reached the bottom of the stairwell and approached his stretched, black limousine.

"Then off we go!" He exclaimed tossing her playfully into the air as his servant opened the car door. Her gaze would not meet his own.

"No." She mewed softly, tears in her voice, "No." She cried all at once.

"No what?" Pegasus asked in shocked tones, moving a hand under her chin to guide her gaze upward. "What's wrong?" He asked, but she was sobbing by now, speaking incoherently.

"No." He kept hearing, "No!"

He felt overwhelmed, consumed, helpless. Feelings had not affected him this strongly since Cyndia's passing, and his defeat at the hands of little Yugi. He seemed to take on every ounce of her fear and anxiety, powerless in a struggle to keep her from feeling depressed or afraid.

"It's okay honey." He said, patting her back and looking awkwardly, pleadingly to his employees for help. But he and his driver were baffled by such an unexpected outburst.

"She's probably tired. It's just jetlag." Croquet told him, but Pegasus knew better. She was terrified, it wasn't that he sensed her fear, he _felt_ it creeping through her and into his veins.

"Shhh." He crooned, trying to think. "Shhh." He insisted, still holding her awkwardly in his arms. He looked from the driver in his car to the child in his arms, wondering if it was wise to take her anywhere if she was just tired and struggling with all the new surroundings. But she needed clothing, she needed to try on clothing. Sizing here was completely different than in Japan. "How 'bout some ice cream before we start shopping?" He asked, hoping to sway her, but she shook her head in his arms.

He took a step toward the vehicle and stopped, triggered. Her mother had died in an accident. He felt his stomach twist and clutched her tightly, guilt overwhelming him. What if, he began to ask himself, her mother had died in a car accident? What if she was afraid of the car on top of the new home, because she had memories of her mother's accident?

"Okay kiddo." He gave in, "Let's go back inside." He said, turning her away from the car and moving toward the castle. She cried into the fabric of his blazer, body wracked with sobs that she couldn't seem to stop.

"Let's go back inside." Pegasus repeated, now laying his free arm across her and supporting the back of her neck. "it's okay." He kept repeating all the way into the castle, up the stairs, into his bedroom.

But it wasn't okay. He knew, heart aching more than it had in many years, that this might never be okay. If he was right it would take years for the child to overcome what she had seen, or what her mind had recreated to spare her some extent of trauma.

Even as Clara's sobs died down into soft hiccups, Pegasus couldn't form coherent thoughts. He felt such anguish over her grief that he found himself unable to do anything but hold her and coo comforting words. "It's alright. I will never let _anything _happen to you." He kept saying. Whether her tears ended from her exhaustion, or with the coaxing of his soft words to her he didn't know, nor care.

In that moment there was no indication of what the next hour would bring, let alone the next day, but her small voice called up to him, Papa...will you sing?" And he didn't ask questions. He pulled the child into a tight, warm embrace, and tearfully sang Cyndia's favorite lullaby.

_"Sleep my child and peace attend thee,  
All through the night  
Guardian angels God will send thee,  
All through the night  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,  
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping  
I, my loved ones' watch am keeping,  
All through the night_

_While the weary world is sleeping_  
_All through the night_  
_O'er thy spirit gently stealing_  
_Visions of delight revealing_  
_Breathes a pure and holy feeling_  
_All through the night"_

Even when Clara's grip had loosened and her breaths became relaxed, he sang the deep, mournful song, a sort of ode to the sentiment that his life had changed forever.

* * *

A Note From The Author: Thank you for your support, after all these years of waiting I hope you enjoyed watching Pegasus interact with Clara during her first day at Duelist Kingdom, and ask that you stick around to see this family come together. All the best.


	4. Enter Kaiba

**Chapter 4: Enter Kaiba**

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters. (I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that I also have no affiliation, legal or otherwise, to the lullaby "All Through The Night")

Warnings/Notes: Another long awaited addition to the story, please feel free to comment, critique, rant (etc.) as you see fit. I apologize for the delay!

* * *

Clara spent the majority of the night tossing and turning against Pegasus's restless form, her small frame gravitating to his against the otherwise empty king-sized bed. Part of him expected her to wake in tears, plagued by nightmares or memories she had temporarily suppressed, but she did not. While he spent the waning hours of darkness in silent anxiety, she slept peacefully to the soft sounds of his breathing.

Morning light eventually woke the child, who had turned her back to her father's side, limbs in the kind of awkward position that is only comfortable to a small child. Her blue eyes fluttered open and closed for a few moments, trying to adjust to the brightness of morning. Pegasus watched her little hands move to rub the sleep from her eyes, curiously observing her as she sat up. He noted, with some worry, that the shift in weight on the bed was miniscule, not enough to alert him if she were to wake at some point in the night and wander off to find comfort.

"Good morning." He greeted softly, sitting himself upright and using a free hand to smooth his hair.

Clara's mouth opened into a small yawn, "G'morning." She offered in response, stretching her arms up toward the ceiling.

"How did you sleep?" He asked, and she blinked at him in reply.

"Good?" She offered with a smile that was quickly returned to her.

"I'm glad to hear it." He stood up, smoothed his suit, and decided against changing into something fresh. Eventually he could leave Clara in the observation of a senior employee long enough to shower and re-dress, but for now it was not a priority.

"Want some breakfast?" He offered, extending his arms to the child to help her down from the bed.

She thought for a moment, having slept since early afternoon the day before, she had too much energy to imagine sitting still to eat. "We...can play?" She asked timidly, her expression cautious and unsure.

Pegasus smiled and leaned down to scoop the child up, setting her gently on the floor. "Of course." She reached her hand up for his own, eager to navigate the castle. "Let's try some clothes on first, okay?" He pushed gently, grabbing a small pile of children's attire from bags underneath the bedside table. His servants had thought to shop for the little girl and bring things back, just until she got used to traveling. Some were still adamant, despite their boss's explanation, that she just needed time to adjust, and assured him they would take care of everything.

Brunette hair fell into her mouth as she stuck her lip out to pout, and she spat it out with a giggle, "Okayy." She conceded a bit dejectedly. Pegasus, unsure if Clara could undress and re-clothe herself, stood looking down at her for a moment before she said, quite indignantly, "You can't watch, you a boy!"

He chuckled and handed her a few outfits to choose from, hoping one would fit correctly. "I'll just be outside the door." He called to her in sing-song tones as he exited the room.

Hastily Clara took her clothes off and hopped into a pair of panties, nearly losing her balance in the process. She then looked down at the three options she had been awarded and quickly chose a pale pink dress with roses made of soft, downy fabric. "Princess!" She cooed happily as she slid her arms into the long-sleeves, which hung slightly on her thin frame. "I pretty!" She exclaimed, bursting through the door and into the hallway.

"Gorgeous choice!" Pegasus gushed in a fashion all his own, "Should we put some leggings on?" He offered. The child thought for a moment, but agreed just the same. She walked quickly into the room and scooped up a white pair, struggling with the stretching fabric that clung to her pale skin. "Need help?" He offered from his spot beyond the now open door.

"Mm..." She struggled a few moments longer before giving into frustration, "Yes." She decided in a determined tone that triggered laughter from the elder.

"Here." He offered upon entering the room, "Let's see what we can do." He pulled off the offending garment and rolled the fabric of one leg up, "Leg one." He instructed, "Aaand, leg two." With both limbs successfully placed in the bunched fabric, he quickly pulled the outfit together and smiled at his success. "Wanna see?" He asked, lifting her to his chest before she had time to reply. The mirror opposite them displayed his nearly unaltered appearance, and Clara's too-big but decidedly adorable dress.

"Hooway!" She called out, bouncing up and down in his hold, "We can play now?" She asked, all the more eager to begin the day.

"We'll brush your hair on the way." He replied, grabbing a brush from the end table and leaving the unmade bed and scattered clothing to his maid. Still a bit lost in his fatherly duties, he struggled to hold the excited child while pulling a brush, as gently as he could manage, through her tangled hair.

"Sir... Mr. Crawford!" He jerked the brush at the sound of his name and struggled not to drop Clara altogether as she let out a mew of protest.

"I'm _busy_." He informed the suit while stroking Clara's head in apparent apology. Though his tone was calm so as not to alarm her, the look he shot his head of security dripped venom.

"My deepest apologies sir, but Seto Kaiba is on the phone." Pegasus gave a disapproving grunt at the thought, stooping down to set Clara on the floor.

"Give me that." He reached for the phone in irritation, "Take the child to play until I can finish." He whispered, holding the phone receiver against the muffling fabric of his blazer. "I'll be back soon kiddo." He promised upon turning his attention to Clara, "Be a good girl." He added.

Blue eyes followed him worriedly as she was ushered into the care of a man she only knew in passing, from brief moments in the orphanage and castle. Uneasiness mounted within her and she fought back tears as she was whisked away to an elaborate room done up entirely in duel monsters paraphernalia.

"Don't worry." Came the awkward reassurance of a gruff voice above her, "He won't be long." Bony hands extended paper and crayons to her, and, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other, she took them.

* * *

"Why hello Kaiba-boy, what can I do for you?" He chirped into the phone receiver.

The brunet paused for a moment, Pegasus getting straight to business was unusual, "We have a proposal to discuss. Today." His tone oozed finality.

"I'm afraid that just can't be arranged." The elder retorted with notes of obviously feigned remorse, "I'm on holiday for a few weeks, you know what they say don't you? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"Save the theatrics Pegasus." He rolled his eyes and began making his way to the east wing playroom, though several such places existed despite the lack of children, this was the largest, the creme de la creme of Duelist Kingdom for kiddies. "I know you've been skirting my phone calls you snake, but I intend to have my way before nightfall, with or without your invitation."

He yawned exaggeratedly into the phone, "That's nice Kaiba-boy, but I really don't have time for bickering. Whatever you want of me can wait until I'm ready to address it, otherwise take it up with a company that cares." Snarky as ever, he moved the phone away from his ear, a fraction of a second from hanging up.

"Name your price," quipped the younger CEO.

"A month. Seto Kaiba. With no trivial meddling about theme parks, copyright, or anything else your simple little self can come up with. I have more pressing matters to attend to."

"I want it done before Christmas so get a hold of yourself." He snapped, "I've made the announcement to children and you're not going to screw it up."

"Now, now Kaiba, didn't mommy ever tell you not to make promises you can't keep? It's not my fault your PR department ignored such an irresponsible manipulation of publicity."

"I'm not in the mood to play games with you Pegasus. Construction will be completed on schedule if I have to stop all proceedings between our companies until the signing of the contract."

"Ooh, Kaiba's making threats." He taunted, unfazed. "But I suppose it'd be unforgivable to disappoint the little ones, and on Christmas no less. You leave me in quite the annoying position Seto Kaiba, but don't worry, I'll find a way to make this worth my while. You will meet me at Duelist Kingdom before three o' clock or there will be nothing to discuss. If I hear another word from your company after our proceedings today, you can consider any agreement reached to be void. You aren't the only one with a schedule." In an instant he cut the grating voice short and made quick strides to his waiting child.

"And just what are we up to?" He inquired as he knelt down to her level, leaving the grievances of business with Kaiba behind him.

"I coloring." She replied a bit distractedly, offering him a dulling green crayon before turning back to the task at hand.

Though she seemed content enough he could sense her underlying worry and inwardly mulled over how long he might have been on the phone, ten minutes, fifteen? He shook himself from the nagging thoughts and put a hand on her head.

"Amazing work." He said of the dragon-like creature on off-white paper.

A cheshire grin, then, "I draw like that!" She exclaimed, pointing a small finger in the direction of a 'Winged Dragon Guardian of the Fortress' ride similar to ones found outside supermarkets for small children, usually designed as racecars or rocket ships.

"Do you know what that monster's called?" He asked, relieving the weight on his knees by re-positioning himself to sit cross-legged beside her.

"Mon...ster?" She questioned.

"Yes sweetie." He replied, smile returning to his features, "That's called a Duel Monster, daddy made him and thousands of other creatures based on the shadow games of Ancient Egyptians."

The child abandoned her blue crayon abruptly and looked at him startled, "Papa _makes_ monsters?" She repeated, lip trembling with fear.

"Well...it's...it's not like that." He struggled with what to say, accustomed to dealing primarily with adults, or at least children familiar with Duel Monsters, it was nearly impossible to explain away what he had just implied. "Not monsters." He said, moving his hand from her head to stroke her cheek. "Daddy makes storybook characters and prints them on cards. Then people play games with them." He explained, watching Clara's expression shift from terrified to curious.

"I like games." She informed him, still clearly a bit confused by the whole thing. "We can play Papa's game?" She asked, pushing her drawing aside as if to dismiss any notion of coloring.

Pegasus abandoned the crayon he'd been given and rose to his feet, "Sure kiddo!" He smiled proudly down at her, "Let daddy show you how it's done." He began to guide her out of the play room and into the make-shift dueling arena that Duelist Kingdom participates had grown to memorize. He chuckled at the thought of how outdated it would seem to duelists today, so few years later.

Upon reaching the large room he pressed a button on a shaded wall, transforming what was once empty space into a dueling arena. Initially startled by the noise, Clara clung to the fabric of his suit pants, hiding behind his leg with marginal success.

"It's okay." He assured her, a smile in his voice, "Lots of fun things are loud." He continued, making his way to the velvet lined chair that had allowed him prime view of his tournament's successes, failures, and ultimate undoing.

"This is daddy's own deck." He said, reaching into a compartment in the wooden back of the chair to retrieve the aforementioned cards, "Wanna see?"

Hesitantly, Clara nodded her head, "There's this many!" She noted, stretching her arms in a wide display of the number she couldn't hope to reach on her fingers and toes.

"There sure are." He concurred as she climbed into the seat and held out her hands to look through them. "Be super careful with this one." He instructed, sliding a card from the upper portion of the deck into her hand, "It's very special."

The castle on the green hued card seemed to delight the child, who smiled immediately and traced it's outline with her finger, "Storybook house!" She exclaimed.

"Not just any old storybook house kiddo, that's 'Toon World'." He pointed to the bold lettering at the top of the card, "It's daddy's very favorite."

She quietly admired the card, rubbing her hand over the picture as if wishing to bring it to life. What Pegasus said next, she was beyond hearing. It took him a few minutes to realize that the cards he had been sorting through and holding up to her were being completely toned out.

"Clara." He said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Clara." He repeated, a bit more firmly this time.

"Papa." She said, at last lifting her head to meet his concerned gaze. "I can go back now?"

He crouched to her level, "Back to coloring?" He asked.

Shaking her head, she replied, "Back with everyone else."

"Honey..." He trailed off, unsure of how to approach this, "We're not going back to the orphanage anymore. This is your forever home, and I'm your forever Papa." Part of him still felt awkward referring to himself as a father and he hoped, especially now, that it didn't show.

"Forever." She repeated, her fingers loosening around the card, "You Pwomise?" She probed, gaze relaying the desperate need for reassurance.

"Cross my heart!" He exclaimed, gathering the cards and pocketing them for another day. "Whenever you need me." He said, taking her into his arms and resting his hand on her chest, "I'll be right here."

Though she was too young to understand what he meant by the gesture, something in the gentle tone of his voice, in the concerned aura of his gaze, set her mind at ease. She smiled a bit nervously at him as he began to make his way out of the room. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Mama. Not much was clear to her now, but she liked that this man would not scold her for calling him Papa, liked that he let her do fun things as long as she liked. She had never seen him angry like some of the men from the orphanage, who yelled about accidents, injuries, and dirty clothes. After mere hours in his company, a small but crucial truth was apparent to her. With Pegasus Crawford, with Papa, she felt _safe_.

"It's almost noon." He mused as Clara kicked her feet against his chest, happy with her spot on his shoulder, "I don't know about you but I'm hungry."

"Me too." She said softly, and with that the two made their way to the nearby dining room, where various dishes awaited them.

"I have some of those?" She asked as he sat her down, pointing longingly to a platter of melonpan.

"Why not." He replied, placing one on a small white plate, "What else would you like?" He asked, making a mental note to buy some sort of chair that would accommodate her height.

"What Papa likes!" She decided after a few moments hesitation, and he laughed as he placed a few things around the melonpan that he felt were the most kid friendly.

Upon filling his own plate he took the usual seat at the head of his table, watching Clara as she hungrily munched on her treat. "Don't forget to try the other things." He was sure to remind her before she'd eaten the majority of the pastry.

She nodded through a mouthful of bread, letting her fork linger for a moment as she struggled to make a decision. Eventually she plucked it into a chilled prawn and hummed happily as the two continued their meal. Pegasus smiled at the thought of the strange combinations he was introducing to her, but dismissed the idea of it being harmful. One odd lunch wasn't the end of the world.

The two hard hardly finished their meal when a sudden commotion pulled Pegasus away from Clara. "What on earth..." He mumbled, taking her hand in his own and moving into the foyer.

"Sir." Came Croquet's slightly irritated voice, "We welcome Mr. Seto Kaiba." He continued, moving out of view of their guest.

"Pegasus." Came the clipped, even voice of the younger CEO.

"Kaiba-boy." He drawled, his hand adjusting as Clara interlaced her fingers with his own. "Let's get down to business, shall we?" At the snap of his fingers servants exited the room; he was free to make his way somewhere more private to conduct the affairs with Kaiba.

Not one to dawdle himself, the brunet made haste to match Pegasus's speed, and almost, _almost _missed the small child at his side. Had she not hummed a song he distantly remembered from his childhood, it's likely he'd have avoided acknowledging her altogether.

"What." He noted almost placidly, "Is this?" He continued, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the young girl. "Don't tell me you've abducted the heir to another company." He mocked, anger quickly rising in his voice.

"Mind your manners Kaiba, there are children in the room." He scolded, squeezing Clara's hand a bit tighter as she clung to his leg. "Say hello to Mr. Kaiba, Clara." He instructed, his eyes still locked on the other man's.

"H-Hello." She stammered nervously, face still buried in her father's pant leg, avoiding the cold gaze and tone of the famed former champion.

"It's one thing to be a child Pegasus." He challenged the other man with a smirk, "It's an entirely new level of pathetic to keep their company."

The elder's stare hardened, "I'll thank you to keep a civil tone around my daughter." His voice, characteristically smooth, held a warning.

Kaiba froze for a moment, Pegasus was so childish himself that the idea of him being a parent seemed laughable. Beyond that, past his ingrained mechanism of picking at character flaws, he was deeply and entirely unnerved. His mind wandered back to the cool dampness of a dungeon not ten feet below them, to Mokuba shackled and lifeless in a cell. Pegasus Crawford..._Pegasus Crawford _have a child? He felt sick.

"You're widowed." His jaw was stiff with shock and fury.

"Don't be so simple." Irritation lingered for a mere second in the other's voice, "_You're _adopted, aren't you?"

Kaiba held his gaze, not bothering with a second glance to the little girl at Pegasus's side. Was money really the only thing people considered before pawning a child off like a piece of meat? He battled with his emotions, not daring to allow Pegasus to catch him off guard. To think that someone who had not long ago displayed no sense of empathy to family, or the devotion to such ties of love and trust, had a child...he swallowed hard.

"No plans of making her a shell, I presume."

If there was ever an instant for Seto Kaiba which instilled that specific, raw twinge of fear when truly crossing the line, it was now. "Oh let's not play the victim so well Seto Kaiba. You have quite a few...moments of indiscretion I could disclose as well. The only difference is your unwillingness to look back, let alone make amends-"

"You're all the same, avoiding your own wrongs and acting like they'll go away if you're really, really nice-"

"Don't go dredging up the demons of your past, let it go Kaiba you're a big boy now. Furthermore, you'll do well to remember who you're speaking with, regardless of our standing as business partners I will be treated with respect or you will reap what you sow. Your title is lost to little Yugi several times over, without that you, and the success of your company, are entirely in the hands of Industrial Illusions."

"Cheap threats, what a fine example."

"That's called business, and I can't think of a finer way to flaunt it's golden rule. Gather some shred of humility before you contact me again Seto Kaiba or our next communication may well be our last." He took Clara into his arms, guiding her head to his neck, where he felt, with terrible guilt, the wetness of her tears against his skin.

As he turned to take his leave of Kaiba he all but ignored the fact that the other CEO stood unmoving in the hallway. "That's your cue to _run along_." He clung tighter to the small form in his arms, instinctively pressing his lips to her hair, making sounds of hushing tenderness into the dark locks.

Wordlessly Kaiba set the documents on a decorative table, turned swiftly in the direction of the door, and, cloak sweeping dramatically behind him, made his way for the exit.

* * *

Further Author's Notes: All will continue to be explained in the next chapter but I didn't want to leave some extremely long, rambling piece for you all at once. Feel free to leave any commentary you may have, I hope you enjoyed reading.


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